Nightmare
by Skelegirl
Summary: In which Stephano wakes from a nightmare, and in a moment of weakness hugs Mr. Chair. ;Bromance;


ANOTHER ONE. GOD I AM OUT FOR CONTROLL. Dedicated to Stephanothestatue on deviantart AND ShadowThorn12. AGaiN. GOD CAUSE SHE'S AWESOME THAT'S WHY.

Disclaimed.

* * *

"No! Think about what you're doing... Please!" Mr. Chair's voice, high from fear echoes down the corridor. His eyes are wide with terror and he can't stop shaking after that first stab. Blood pools onto the wall behind him and travels down his pants to meet the floor. He doesn't reach to grab the painful slice, he doesn't make a move to run past the attacker. He is just too surprised to do anything.

He's in a sitting poisition. Crawl, maybe if he snapped out of his daze. But he can't. Because the attacker is Stephano.

Stephano's above him, chest heaving slightly, bloody sword clenched in both hands. His eyes are merciless, staring down at Mr. Chair like he was the Bro.

The chair stutters out apologies, even though he has no idea what he's done, what he did, maybe it was the Barrels oh god-

Mr. Chair looks up at the golden statue again, tears welling up in his eyes. He's almost out of the horrific daze, and he can really feel those split organs. He opens his mouth, but keeps closing it. He has no idea what to say.

A stray tear slips out of his eye, and falls down the curve of his cheek into the side of his mouth.

And that must have been a signal, because Stephano reels his arms back supporting the golden sword, and shoves it into Mr. Chair's face.

The injured man can only let out a half scream before it stutters and dies in his throat like a broken motor.

Bone caves in around the sword and blood weakly spurts out. Mr. Chair's eyes rolls up until there is only white. And Stephano only pushes deeper until his weapon scratches against the stone wall. Not once uttering a word. Not once having a pang of regret.

* * *

"FUCK!" Stephano sprang up in bed, eyes wide, breathing unevenly. Wrapped in his mind are images of the dream he had. Especially the scenes where blood drops out of what once was Mr. Chair's face.

Quickly he glances around his room. He's in bed, alone, in the dark; with no dead Mr. Chair slumped against the walls.

A dream. No, a nightmare. A horrid nightmare that just warped up memories in his head. "Oh mon dieu, c'est quoi ce bordel! Je ne m'attends pas à avoir ce genre de rêve."

He rested his elbows on his knees, trying to calm down. The moonlight reflected off his shiny skin, sending tiny splatters of moonlight across the room.

"Jesus Christ..." He murmured, trying to shake off the image. His heart beat fast, and he trembled slightly. There was no way he could get back to sleep now.

Stephano pressed his forehead into his knees; arms crossing, forming a protective barrier around his head. His golden pony tail slipped over his shoulder and touched his elbow. He didn't reach to brush it away. He muttered a number of swears, and how alcohol must fuck him up in his dreams.

His head snapped up as he heard quiet patters of footsteps coming down the hallway, cushioned by the red carpet in the hallway. His eye twitched, and he mentally maps out where his sword is resting

He intends to see the figure, then launch out of bed, grab the weapon and swing it across the intruder's chest. Manageable. He's done crazier tasks.

Scooting farther toward the end of the bed, he catches sight of the golden sword. It glint's against the moonlight, making it as noticeable as it possibly could in the nearly pitch black darkness.

"Stephano?..." A voice greeted him, in his doorway.

Already the statue's nerves were on high, but now he felt as taut as a coiled spring.

"Shit! Who's there?!" Stephano threw his head to the side, eyes slightly wide. His arms curled slightly into fists, and adrenaline was more than happy to pump through his veins. However, the trembling in his bones did not stop. Nor did the images in his head of the past nightmare.

"Bro, it is me. Mr. Chair." The chair entered a few feet into the room, and the moonlight glinted across his face.

No gashes, no cracked skull, no tears staining his cheeks. The pajama shirt, as far as he could see, was not stained with blood. His glasses were not knocked off. They were on his face, moonlight flashing on them and obscuring his eyes.

Mr. Chair was alive.

Completely fine.

Stephano let out a breath he'd been scared to let out. Slowly his hands unclenched and fell by his side.

"Oh… Hallos Mr. Chair..." The statue murmured, smiling slightly.

Mr. Chair stood uneasily. "I heard you scream from down the hall. I thought the bro was in here again, asking you were PewDiePie was."

"Hahah, no, instead I had a bit of a bad dream." Stephano replied; trying in vain to calm down his pulse and continue to look manly, and not all scared. He straightened his spine and looked straight at the chair.

In return the man in the doorway smiled back. "Okay, I see you're not scared at all so… Good night, bro."

Mr. Chair turned to leave the room. He slipped back into the shadows, the rays of moonbeams straying to the doorway instead.

And Stephano had no idea what he was doing. He slipped out of bed, not bothering to smooth and fix the sheets. He dashed through the doorway of his bedroom, into the hallway. Normally he'd be wary about TNG's and Untrusted Statues, but he didn't bother paying attention.

The carpet was cushioned under his socked feet, and silenced his approach towards Mr. Chair.

The said man was slowly making his way to his room, sometimes looking around quickly. He went without a light, and that was rare. Mr. Chair didn't exactly like the dark. He was often jumped by Bro or Piggeh. Scary shit happened at night.

Upon hearing soft footsteps behind him, Mr. Chair whirled around, a unreadable expression on his face. "Stephano what are you- WAH!?"

Wrapping his arms around the chair's upper torso, Stephano awkwardly hugged him. He set his chin on top of Mr. Chair's head.

"Bro, what are you doing? Are you drunk again. As I told you a million times before, not everyone's going to just let you surprise hug them." Mr. Chair piped up.

"No, Mr. Chair. I had a terrible nightmare. In which I killed you. Jesus Christ, when you stepped in my room, I thought you were stabbed in the head." Stephano answered truthfully, hugging Mr. Chair tightly.

With one hand the chair patted his bro's back. "There, there. It's just a nightmare. And they can't harm you unless you reenact the dream."

"It felt very real. And the dream me didn't even blink, or feel guilt." The statue said quietly, uncomfortable on telling the dream.

"What if it was Gonzales? He has threatened me before. Just a overimagination, bro."

"You're right about that,"

The bros both separated from the hug. Mr. Chair looked up at Stephano. "Bro, go back to sleep. I'm sure you're dreams will be better."

Stephano rolled his eyes. "Jesus Christ, i'll be lucky to get back to sleep at all."

The chair laughed. "That's the spirit!"


End file.
